


After Ever After

by celeria



Category: The Boxcar Children - Gertrude Chandler Warner
Genre: Adoption, Female-Centric, Gen, Growing Up, Lullabies, Music, Twenty Years Later, Violins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:32:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2801381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeria/pseuds/celeria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the four Alden children move from a boxcar in the woods to a home with their grandfather, they all have to adjust to the changes in their lives.  For Violet Alden, the most important one is her violin, and it becomes a major part of the rest of her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Ever After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sildominarin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sildominarin/gifts).



> I have a lot of love for this series, especially the original 19 books written by Gertrude Chandler Warner. This story is based mainly on the first seven books, but includes some references to/from the later books, including the recent prequel by Patricia MacLachlan and the ghostwritten "New Generation" books (primarily #24, #31, and Super Special #1).
> 
> Many thanks to:  
> hippo ibble for the dancing  
> betas [tigerbright](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerbright), Doranwen, Rich, and [Syrinx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrinx/pseuds/Syrinx) for a variety of things, including musical expertise and fast turnaround times  
> and especially [inevitablewebreathe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inevitablewebreathe) for the canon-pick, music knowledge, and overall input and reassurance.

_"Thank you for the surprise, Grandfather," said Violet. "We'll never go away from you again."_

_"I hope not, my dear," said Mr. Alden. "We'll all live happily ever after."_

_And so they did._

 

And they did—at least they lived. But the _happily_ took some time.

It was strange, Violet thought—strange to think that they had gone from being independent in their boxcar to having a house again. A house with four walls, and windows, and a real kitchen, and new spring flowers out in the gardens, and more dishes and beds and blankets and books and games and toys than they had ever had in their little farmhouse with their parents. Mr. Alden's house was beautiful, but it wasn't Fair Meadow Farm. Mr. Alden was kind, but he wasn't their father. And if they were in a different town, a different place, a different house, was she still Violet Alden?

Violet sat on her bed in the middle of her room and looked around at the wallpaper with the violets on it.

Jessie stuck her head in the door. "Mrs. McGregor's back. Let's go help her with the groceries."

Violet willingly followed Jessie down to the kitchen. Mrs. McGregor smiled at both girls but waved away their offers of help with a shake of her white head. "No, thank you, my dears," she said. "I'll just start supper, and then I'll set the table. I bought a new tablecloth for the dining room."

"Oh, let me hem it," Violet said.

"It's all done," Mrs. McGregor assured her. "These newfangled stores, they do all the hemming and the finishing for you. You just tell them how long you want the tablecloth to be." She tsked. "Sometimes the old ways are better."

"Can we help you with supper?" Jessie asked. "I could make a pie for dessert."

"You're sweet to offer," Mrs. McGregor said, "but your grandfather likes my orange puddings, and I have five of those ready. No, I have all the help I need here. Why don't you find your brothers and go down to your boxcar?"

It sounded like a good idea, so Violet and Jessie thanked Mrs. McGregor and left the kitchen. They found Henry coming upstairs from the workshop in the cellar, but when they went to ask Benny, he shook his head. He and Mr. Alden were playing checkers in the sunroom, and it looked like Benny might be about to win for the first time.

They called for Watch instead and walked out to the gardens.

Henry rolled back the door of the boxcar and let the girls climb up on the old dead stump first. They sat down on the beds of pine needles, which were dry and brittle now; they snapped under their feet. Jessie went to the shelf and rearranged the tidy dishes. Henry picked up his knife and began to whittle a spare piece of firewood.

Only Violet had nothing to do; her workbag was up in her bedroom in the house, and even if she had had it with her, there was nothing to work _on_. She wiped some dust off the ladle and the spoons instead. "I feel strange," she said at last, not sure if she needed to say more, but who besides her brother and sister would ever understand her as well?

Jessie put down the last dish and turned to her sister. "I do too," she said.

"I do too," Henry said.

Violet felt immensely relieved, glad that she wasn't the only one sealed up in her lovely new bedroom feeling strange by herself. "I'm grateful," she said. "I like it here. But it's not—it's not—"

"No," Henry said. "It's not. Nothing's the same. Did you notice—before, Benny would never have left us alone to come down here."

Jessie sat back down on the floor and looked up at her brother and sister. "Well," she said, "what can we do about it?"

"We can offer to take more responsibility," Henry said. "I could walk Benny to school and pick him up in the afternoons."

"We could arrange a cooking schedule with Mrs. McGregor," Jessie said. "We could take turns preparing supper and dessert."

Violet sat down as well, creasing her brow in thought as she patted Watch's head. "I could sew Benny's clothes," she said. "Our grandfather said that the seamstress is getting married this summer. Maybe I can do enough work so he doesn't have to hire anyone else."

"That's a wonderful idea," Jessie said. She put her arm around her sister. "If our grandfather sees that we can be useful, maybe we can …"

"Help out," Henry finished. "Show them that we want to help."

Violet sighed. She should have known that her dependable brother and practical sister would have a dozen helpful suggestions. But their grandfather didn't think they were unhelpful. He simply saw no need for them to help. He already had Mrs. McGregor and the gardener and the cooks and the maids and the seamstress and the driver to do those things.

Maybe _he_ didn't need their help, Violet thought, but they needed to give it.

Jessie squeezed Violet's hand. "Let's give it the summer," she said. "Let's show him what we can do, and maybe things will change."

Violet nodded. After all, she knew how fast things could change. Blink, and their parents were gone; blink, and they were living here in the house their grandfather and father had grown up in. She knew as well as her brother and sister that they didn't need a whole summer for changes. "All right," she said. "Let's see."

* * *

As it turned out, things did change that summer, but not in the way Violet expected. They were even better. For one thing, the four children spent the whole summer together on Surprise Island. For another, they found their cousin John Joseph Alden and brought him home. For a third, when they got back to Greenfield, they found that almost all the staff had gone. "Miss Morton got married, as you know," Mr. Alden said, as his driver helped carry the children's suitcases into the house. "And the cook and the gardener moved to Springfield, and the other cook decided to leave. Which is just as well, because we'll need their rooms now that John's going to live here again. We'll keep the maids and the driver, but Mrs. McGregor thought you children might be willing to help out in the kitchen and on the grounds. What do you think?"

All four children stopped and stared at Mr. Alden. Henry stood up straight, and Jessie broke into a smile, but Violet was the one who ran to their grandfather and hugged him. "Thank you so much," she said. "We would love to help out more. It's what we've wanted."

"I can cook and build things too," Benny said. "But will we still have time to play with my train?"

Grandfather laughed and hugged him too, then Henry and Jessie. "We will always have time to play with your train," he said.

For Henry, Jessie, and Benny, the changes were enough. For Violet, though, the most important one was her violin, which she now kept in her bedroom next to her workbag.

Joe continued giving Violet lessons, but within a few months he shook his head at her as she finished a Wohlfahrt study. She lowered the violin, worried. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked.

"Not at all," Joe said, smiling. "It's just that you are becoming far better than I. Soon I won't be able to teach you anymore. We'll find you a new teacher, all right?"

Violet frowned. "I'm not sure I want a new teacher," she said.

"You will," Joe said. "You'll play even better with a new teacher. I don't know of any violin teachers around Greenfield anymore, but I'll ask at the museum. Maybe one of my coworkers knows someone. Or there's that new community college. Maybe they offer music classes."

"Entire classes on music?" Violet thought about that. It sounded both frightening and exciting. She knew that that was how Henry felt about some of his studies, especially math; she could tell from the look on his face when he read his textbooks. At almost sixteen, Henry was the responsible student in the family. He never touched his homework until he was finished with all his chores around the house.

"Entire classes and more," Joe said. "You can get a college degree in music. If you keep progressing like this, you could go to a fine arts school or a conservatory."

"I'm not sure what I want," Violet confessed. She thought about it sometimes, especially now that they never needed to work for anything, never needed to worry about anything. What would she do with her life? Henry, of course, wanted to go to college; she could tell that he would be suited for it. And Jessie also talked about it, though Violet couldn't imagine her as anything other than her practical, efficient older sister. But Violet felt that college was too far off in the future to think of it for herself.

"You're young," Joe said. "You don't need to be sure yet. But college is a wonderful time in your life. You'll go to school, learn new things, and meet new friends."

"Was it wonderful for you?" Violet asked.

"For sure," Joe said. "And my graduate studies were even better. When you pick something you're really interested in, it's exciting to learn."

"But this isn't learning," Violet said, gesturing to her violin. "Not like school. Not like memorizing and studying—it's not work, for me."

Joe smiled at his young cousin. "And that," he said, "is why you're going to be so good at it."

* * *

Joe was true to his word, and by springtime, he had found Violet another teacher. His name was Mr. Warren and he was nothing like Joe—in his fifties, white-haired, wearing small thin glasses and always a narrow tie—but he was talented, patient, and demanding. Violet liked Mr. Warren very much, and that was good, because that was the summer that Joe married Alice and went away to Surprise Island for their wedding trip, and then he took the children to Maine to search for Bill McGregor.

They had had an exciting two weeks, but now the children were back at home, Bill and Mrs. McGregor were back in their little rooms, Joe and Alice were back at work, and Violet was back at her lessons. "I'm sorry," she apologized as she struggled with an easy warm up. "I haven't practiced in three weeks."

"Don't apologize to me," Mr. Warren said. "You haven't offended or disappointed me at all, Miss Alden. You're the only one who's disappointed right now. What are you going to do about it?"

Violet felt about two inches tall. "I'll practice harder this week," she said, "to make up for it."

"Good. Then I'd like you to remember this conversation," Mr. Warren said. He smiled. "And I _will_ ask you to apologize if you don't remember it."

"I will," Violet said. She smiled back and felt a little taller.

When she got home that evening, the family had already finished supper, but Jessie had left a plate for her on the stove. She ate alone in the kitchen and then walked into the front room, where the whole family was gathered—Grandfather talking to Mrs. McGregor and Bill, Joe and Alice looking over a thick stack of papers. Henry was wading through a chapter of his math textbook, while Jessie and Benny were working on math as well—tonight Jessie was teaching Benny long division. Even Watch seemed to be listening intently, glancing back and forth between the three children on the floor.

"I'm sorry I missed supper," Violet said, coming into the room and setting her violin case on the floor. Watch ran to sniff at it, his stumpy tail wagging. "Thank you for leaving a plate for me. Can I help anyone with anything?"

"Not unless you can do calculus," Henry said.

"Jessie's helping me," Benny said happily.

"I think we're all fine, my dear," Grandfather said. "If you really want to help, you could take out your violin and play something for us. Bill has never heard you play."

"Oh, I don't know," Violet said, feeling suddenly shy. "I didn't do too well today. I haven't practiced for three weeks."

"Well," Grandfather said, "the only way to get better is to play, isn't it?"

His tone was firm but encouraging, and it reminded Violet of Mr. Warren. She smiled and took her violin out of its case. "This is an Alberti concerto," she said. "We worked on it today."

When Violet was finished, her entire family clapped, making her blush. She busied herself with loosening the bowstrings and putting the violin back in its case before sitting down next to Benny and Watch. Watch was lying on his side, his eyes closed. He was the only one who hadn't noticed when Violet stopped playing.

As she and Benny patted Watch's curly back, she sneaked a glance at Joe; he looked proud but also wistful. She was about to ask why, but Joe cleared his throat first. "We have something to tell all of you," he began. Everyone turned to look at him, including Alice. He took her hand and smiled around at the family. "Alice and I have been meeting with a real estate agent to talk about buying our own house. She gave us a list of houses in our price range, and there's one we'd like you all to come take a look at next week."

Everyone continued staring at Joe, even Watch.

Jessie was the first to find her voice. "But I thought you were going to live with us for a while!" she exclaimed. "We thought it only made sense. You just got married, all your gifts are here, and Grandfather said you could stay as long as you wanted until you found a house …"

"We know," Joe said gently. "And it's a very generous offer, Uncle James. But we think we _have_ found a house, and maybe it's about time that I moved out, especially now that Bill is here."

"You didn't stay because of us, did you?" Henry asked, looking alarmed. "I'm old enough to drive Grandfather now, too."

"Of course not," Joe said. "It did make sense to stay, Jessie. I've loved living here with all of you. But now that we're married, we'd like a place of your own."

"You're welcome to visit us anytime, no matter where we move," Alice said. "I hope we can repay some of your kindness over the years, Mr. Alden."

"I don't want you to move," Benny said, withdrawing his hand from Watch's back. The other Aldens' gazes shifted nervously to Benny. At almost eight, he was far too old to throw a tantrum, but that hadn't always stopped him. Violet remembered a doozy of a fit on Surprise Island last summer.

"I know, Benny," Joe said. "And I'm sorry. But if I move, you'll be able to visit me in my house instead of me living in yours. Won't that be fun?"

"Fun?" Benny asked. His face started to turn red.

"Benny," Henry said warningly. Watch whined.

Surprisingly, Alice was the one who got up from behind the desk and came down to the floor with Benny. "I've got a secret," she said.

"You do?" Benny looked suspicious. "What is it?"

"Well, this house"—Alice lowered her voice—"is a historic house, built in 1900, and some people say it's haunted. We're very curious about it. Would you like to come with us next week to look at it, just to see if it's haunted?"

"Haunted?" Benny's eyes grew wide, and his cheeks, which had been flushed, turned pale. "Like by a ghost?"

"Yes," Joe said with a chuckle, which he swallowed into a gulp when Benny turned to him. "When we went to see the house yesterday, one of the neighbors told us not to buy it. Apparently they believe it's haunted by the ghost of a young girl who used to live there."

"That doesn't make sense," Jessie said. "If she doesn't live there anymore …"

"Because she disappeared when she was seventeen," Alice said solemnly. She looked at Benny. "Will you come take a look at this house for us? Just to see if you can find the ghost?"

Benny scrunched up his face and bit his lip. "Okay," he said. "I'll come visit your new house."

Violet exchanged relieved glances with Henry and Jessie.

Joe smiled. "Well," he said, "it's not our house yet. If the ghost of Celia Roth is really haunting it, maybe we won't buy it after all."

Grandfather started from his chair in the corner. "Who?"

"Celia Roth," Alice said. "That's the name of the daughter who disappeared. Her father, Robert Roth, built the house."

"I see," Grandfather said. "I see." He stood up, his hands shaking slightly. "I'm sure it's a lovely house, John." He walked out of the front room, leaving the rest of the family to stare after him.

"Grandfather?" Benny called, scrambling up off the floor. "Grandfather, wait!" He sprinted out after Grandfather, with Watch on his heels.

The rest of the Aldens and Mr. and Mrs. McGregor looked at each other uncomfortably. "Well," Joe said, "that could have gone better."

"Benny will be fine," Henry said. "He loves the idea of a haunted house. And Grandfather—well, I'm not sure what's wrong. Maybe he's just surprised that you're moving out."

"But he didn't seem upset when they were said they were looking at houses," Jessie said. "Just after they said the name of the family. What do you think is the problem? Could he have known the Roths?"

"Maybe," Joe said. "The real estate agent, Mrs. Thaler, said that the land had been in the Roth family for years before they built the house. Bill, do you remember hearing about them around Greenfield?"

Bill stroked his clean-shaven chin. "I worked for Mr. Alden, you know—your great-grandfather," he said, nodding to Henry, Jessie, and Violet. "But he never mentioned a Mr. Roth. Doesn't mean anything, though. I lived most of the time on the island. I only came to Greenfield in the winter, when the horses were through racing for the season."

Jessie sighed. "Well," she said, "maybe Benny will be able to get Grandfather to tell him what's wrong. Benny can do almost anything, especially where Grandfather's concerned."

* * *

But Benny wasn't able to get Grandfather to tell them anything. Grandfather didn't act any differently with the children or Joe or Alice, but every night after supper he retired to his study instead of playing cards in the sunroom or sitting in the gardens near the boxcar.

Joe shook his head, bewildered, as he came out of the study one evening. "Uncle James says there's nothing wrong," he said. "He says not to worry about it, that he's just being a foolish old man and he'll gladly go to see the house with us tomorrow. Does everyone still want to come?"

Everyone did, and everyone ended up going except Violet. She had caught a late summer cold and Grandfather thought it would be best if she stayed home, especially since the house was old and dusty and no one had lived there for fourteen years. She made Henry and Jessie promise that they would take pictures of the house—"and the ghost," Benny said eagerly—but she was disappointed to miss the trip. How she hated being known as the sickly one in the family!

Violet spent most of the morning napping, and when she woke up, the family had all left. Mrs. McGregor had some soup in the kitchen for her, and Violet ate it dutifully even though it was still quite warm this early in September. Afterward, she sat morosely in her bedroom with her violin and fingered a slow, almost silent version of _Ave Maria_ to match her mood. Then, deciding that that was a little overdramatic—after all, if Joe and Alice bought the Roth house, she could see it all the time—she thought she would go up to the attic and look for a different chair, one with better back support.

The attic stairs were behind a narrow door. It was dim, dusty, and hot; Violet opened one of the windows at the end. Immediately she could see that her chances of finding a chair up here were not very good. The attic was almost empty, except for a few boxes and trunks, what looked like a large wooden dollhouse, a stack of large pictures and paintings in frames—and a man sitting on the floor against the chimney.

Violet's heart jumped, but as she got closer, her eyes widened with surprise instead of fear. "Grandfather? I thought you went to see Joe and Alice's new house!"

Her grandfather also looked surprised. "Oh, Violet. What are you doing up here, my dear?"

"I came to look for a chair," Violet said. She knelt down on the floor next to her grandfather and leaned over to look at his lap, where he was holding a painting. "What's this?"

Grandfather turned the painting so she could see it. It was small, but even in the very dim light Violet could see that it was beautiful. It showed a lovely young woman in an evening gown. Around her throat was a necklace of sparkling blue sapphires that matched her eyes. "It's pretty," Violet said. "Who is it?"

Her grandfather gave her a look that was somehow disappointed, offended, and sad all at once. "This is your grandmother," he said, touching the woman's painted cheek. "My wife."

"Oh." For a moment, Violet wasn't sure what to say. She had seen pictures of her grandmother before—there was one in the sunroom and one in Grandfather's office—so perhaps Grandfather had a right to expect Violet to know her own grandmother when she saw her. On the other hand, both pictures had been taken when her grandmother was older, so it was no surprise that Violet hadn't recognized her. Grandfather never talked with the children about his wife.

But maybe they could start now. Violet sat down, which was more comfortable than kneeling, and took her grandfather's hand. "Will you tell me about her?" she asked. "What was her name?"

"Celia," Grandfather said.

"Celia Roth?" Violet asked, shocked. Could that be the reason that Grandfather had left the room in such a hurry the other night?

"No," Grandfather said. "This Celia Roth that Joe and Alice told you about is someone else. They simply have the same name. It was such a surprise to hear it, that's all."

Violet could understand that. After all, it had been a surprise to see the painting and really know that she had had a grandmother. She glanced down at the painting again. "She looks beautiful."

Grandfather smiled. "She was. She was a wonderful, loving person. I gave her the necklace she is wearing in the portrait as a wedding present. I had it designed by a very talented jeweler. She loved it so much. She used to say that the sapphires matched her eyes, but I would tell her that they matched her heart."

Violet was speechless as she listened to her grandfather's voice grow soft. She knew that their grandfather loved them, but she had never heard him speak this way to any of the children. She had never heard him speak like that to anyone. She squeezed his hand to let him know that she was listening, afraid to say anything that might intrude upon his memories.

Grandfather smiled at her again and squeezed back, and when he spoke again his voice was brisker, more like his usual self. "What else do you want to know, Violet? She was a wonderful wife and a wonderful mother. She loved our home, she loved our sons."

"Sons?" Violet asked, surprised. "You had more children than Papa?"

"Oh, yes." Grandfather reached back toward the chimney again and spread a handful of wooden frames out on the floor in front of Violet. "Here's your father, Ben," he said, pointing to a picture of a boy about fourteen years old who looked very much like Benny. "And here's his brother, Will."

Violet studied the faces of her father and his younger brother. Will was a baby in this picture, only about a year old. So there had been several years between Ben and Will, just as there were between Henry and Benny. "My uncle Will," she said carefully, trying it out. "Where is he? Can we meet him?"

Grandfather gave Violet a sad smile. "No, sweetheart. He's dead. He died about seven years ago."

"Like Papa," Violet said softly. "But Papa—he never said anything. Did he know?"

Grandfather shook his head. "I don't think so. I would have written, but I didn't know where he and your mother were living. I put a notice in the paper so he might see. Every day for two years."

That meant, Violet realized, that every day for two years, Grandfather had looked down at the newspaper and read about his own son's death again, hoping that it might bring his other son back to him. But it never had. Papa and Mama had died without knowing about Will, without thinking there might be any reason to speak to Grandfather again. Violet remembered their life at Fair Meadow Farm as being filled with joy, but she realized that miles away, in a big empty house in Greenfield, Grandfather's life had been full of sadness.

Grandfather cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, Violet could tell that he was trying to force a jovial note into his voice. "You see how much Benny looks like your father Ben? And Jessie is so much like your grandmother. The necklace she is wearing in this painting was lost long ago, but if it's ever found, it should go to the oldest granddaughter, Jessie."

"Henry is like you," Violet said. It was true, after all, and not just because Henry was named after him. She opened her mouth to ask a question but stopped, too shy to wonder aloud whom she was like.

Her grandfather seemed to know what she was thinking, because he answered it for her. "Yes, Henry is a lot like me," he agreed. "But you, Violet, you remind me most of my brother, John."

" _You_ have a brother, too?" Violet asked, surprised.

"Not anymore," Grandfather said. "He passed away also. He died shortly after your cousin John was born. Don't you remember John telling you that his father and I were brothers?"

"What—oh, yes." Joe _had_ mentioned that once, Violet remembered, when Benny asked if their grandfather was his grandfather too. But it had simply been in passing and none of the children had thought to follow up on it. After Joe was found, after the wedding, it became clear that there were no other parents in his life. Only his Uncle James. It suddenly occurred to Violet that all those years that Joe had lived with Grandfather in this big house, and how deeply Grandfather had mourned when he thought Joe was lost, was because Grandfather had had no one else. Not until the four children came to live with him.

"Well, we were," Grandfather went on. "My brother was John William, too. He died shortly after John was born and shortly before Will came, so Celia and I named our son after him. And you remind me of him, Violet, because he was also a musician. He played all kinds—the violin, the piano, the cello. He was talented enough for the symphony, but times were tough then, so he'd play on street corners and at weddings. He played for Ben when he was born, and he played for John. He and his wife had no money, but oh, they were so happy when little John was born."

Grandfather placed another photograph in front of Violet, this one of a young man holding a violin and bow, and she studied it while she tried to line up all these new family members in her head. She _was_ like John, she realized; they had the same eyes and the same curly dark hair. She could see it in the way he held his violin gently and smiled shyly but directly at the camera. Here was the first John William, Joe's father. Here was the second John William, her father's brother. And her grandmother Celia, who had known and loved them all.

Something new occurred to Violet then. "So that's why you call Joe 'John'?" she asked. "Because he reminds you of your brother John?"

"I suppose it is," Grandfather said. "But you know, maybe it's time I stopped. He decided when he was about fifteen that he was Joe Alden, not John. And you children seem to have decided that he's Joe, too."

"He is, to us," Violet agreed. She reached for the frames that were still sitting stacked in front of her. There were more pictures, all of the Alden family history. Here were Grandfather and Grandmother on their wedding day. Here were Grandfather and his brother with their wives and sons, sitting formally on a line of chairs outside. Here were Papa and Mama getting married. Here, even, was a picture of Grandfather with Papa and Mama and baby Henry. It must have been shortly before they had the fight that took Papa and Mama to Fair Meadow Farm and out of Grandfather's life.

Violet didn't realize she was crying until Grandfather offered her a soft white handkerchief. "Let's go downstairs, my dear," he said. "It's not good for you to be up here in this heat when you're sick."

"I'm fine," Violet said, realizing that that was true and it had nothing to do with not wanting to be the sickly Alden anymore. She gently touched the patchwork of pictures on the floor. "Grandfather, why are these all hidden away up here? Can't we bring them downstairs and put them around the house? Will you tell the others about our grandmother and our uncle Will?"

There was a long, long pause. Violet wondered if her grandfather was angry, but at last he cleared his throat and used the handkerchief on his own eyes. "Yes, I'll tell them," he said. "And maybe you're right. Maybe it's time to bring all these memories downstairs again."

"I'll help you," Violet offered. "I think Jessie would like to see this painting of our grandmother." She stood up and picked up the painting of Celia, then offered her grandfather a hand. "We're a funny family, Grandfather," she added. "We didn't know about any of these people. There aren't any others we should hear about, are there?"

"Well, maybe," Grandfather said with a smile as he led the way to the attic steps. "Someday I'll tell all four of you about my sister."

"You have a sister too?"

"Oh yes," Grandfather said. "She doesn't like me. I have not been very nice to her, either. But I have fine stories of our growing up together. She's quite a character, your great-aunt Jane …"

* * *

As the four children learned, their great-aunt Jane _was_ quite a character, but by the time they had spent two summers with her at Mystery Ranch and then helped her move back to the old Alden farm, they loved her very much. They loved Andy, too, and were happy to see them off on their wedding trip.

They were disappointed to learn that Aunt Jane and Andy wouldn't be home for Christmas, though. "India!" Benny said. "Think of that! Who ever would have guessed that anyone could get Aunt Jane to go to India?"

"You know she'd go anywhere for Andy," Violet said. "And after their trip, Andy will come home to the farm for Aunt Jane. That's where she wants to be. I think it's wonderful that they both want to make each other so happy."

"I guess," Benny said politely, although Violet thought that he didn't sound like he guessed at all. He brightened. "Anyway, Jessie and Henry will be home from college for Christmas, and we'll see Joe and Alice."

Violet nodded eagerly, setting the most recent airmail letter from Aunt Jane on the table in the hall so that Grandfather could read it. She and Benny went upstairs to their rooms to do their homework. It had been a big change this fall to have both Henry and Jessie away at college. It hadn't been so hard when Henry left two years ago, because by that point all four Alden children were used to working on their schoolwork, cooking in the big kitchen, and helping weed and mow the gardens. But now that Jessie was gone, Violet missed her practical sister, with her organized lists and apple pies.

On the first Saturday that Henry and Jessie were both home, all five Aldens dressed up and piled into the station wagon for a surprise celebration at Joe and Alice's house. Violet wasn't sure what they were celebrating. She and Benny had talked about it several times. Every time they asked Grandfather, he merely smiled and changed the subject.

It was a short drive through town to the other side of Greenfield, where the old Roth house was. Joe and Alice had decorated with colorful lights and a Christmas tree in the window. Violet looked around appreciatively as they entered, remembering what it had looked like when they first bought it—ramshackle, dusty, and in desperate need of paint and cleaning and new appliances. Now it was a beautiful home that the neighbors were slowly beginning to admit wasn't haunted.

During dessert—a sweet potato cake that Jessie had made first thing when she got home after exams—Joe cleared his throat. "I've invited everyone here to share our good news." He glanced at his wife, who nodded encouragingly, her lips twitching as if trying to keep her smile damped down.

"What is it?" Benny asked.

"Something wonderful," Joe said. "Your grandfather and his lawyer have worked with Alice and me to bring us a child from Korea."

"Yes, we are flying to Seoul in two days to pick up a little Korean brother and sister that we are going to adopt," Alice said, as her smile got loose and took over her face.

"Soo Lee is seven years old, and Sung Kyu is almost a year," Joe said, a broad smile lighting his face, too.

"Two children!" Violet exclaimed. She and Benny had thought that maybe Joe and Alice's announcement was that they were having a baby, but they had never expected this. Two children at once—a brother and sister!

Jessie seemed to be having similar thoughts. "A girl and a boy—that's wonderful! You're getting a whole family, Joe."

"That's great," Benny said, still shoveling cake in his mouth. "And they'll be the exact same ages that Jessie and I are, too." When everyone looked at him inquiringly, he shook his head. "I mean, not right now. But when Jessie was seven, I was one, right?"

"Congratulations, Joe," Henry said, getting out of his chair to shake Joe's hand. "I can't believe you're going to be a father!"

"When are you coming back?" Violet asked. "When can we meet the kids?"

"As soon as we get home," Alice promised. "We fly to Seoul on Monday. We'll have to do a lot of paperwork and meet with lawyers and the adoption agency, but if everything goes well we should fly back the next Monday or Tuesday."

"A whole week!" Benny exclaimed. "I can't wait that long!"

He ended up having to wait longer because there was a huge snowstorm over Christmas that grounded planes and closed most of the airports on the East Coast. The children kept busy exchanging gifts, playing new games, reading their books, and cooking up a small storm in an effort to keep up with Jessie, who said that the worst thing about college was not having a kitchen of her own. Henry said that the worst thing about college was not having Mrs. McGregor.

On Saturday, the telephone rang so late at night that Violet was worried that something was wrong. When she picked it up, though, Joe's voice rang clear and exhausted over the line. "Hi, Violet," he said with a yawn. "Is Uncle James there?"

"He went to bed," Violet said, glancing at her watch. It was almost midnight. "Is everything okay, Joe? Are you back in Greenfield?"

"Yes," Joe said. "We wanted him to be the first to know that our new daughter and son are here. We'd love to have you all over for lunch on Monday. Do you think you can come?"

"Well, Henry and Jessie and Benny and I will all still be on vacation," Violet said. "Grandfather was planning on going in to the plant, but I'm sure he'll take the day off. We can't wait meet them, Joe!"

"We can't wait, either," Joe said on the back of another yawn. "See you then. We need to get to bed—Alice and the kids and I are all exhausted." He laughed. "The kids! Can you believe I just said that?"

"I can," Violet said happily. "See you then. Good night, Joe." She hung up the phone and went immediately to wake up her sister and brothers to tell them the news. As it turned out, only Benny needed to be woken up. Henry was still up reading an economics journal and Jessie was in the study organizing the textbooks that she needed to take back to school for the spring semester.

"We should buy them a present," Benny suggested.

"We should probably cook something for them, too," Jessie said. "It's a lot of work, having a child. Alice and Joe aren't going to have much free time for a while."

"Now they have _two_ children," Henry pointed out.

"They're our cousins now, right?" Benny asked.

"Yes," Henry said. "We're second cousins to Soo Lee and Sung Kyu. That's because Joe and our father were first cousins."

"And Uncle Will," Violet reminded them. She glanced over to the mantel above the fireplace, where Grandfather had removed a painting of a moose and hung a posed portrait of Grandmother, himself, and their two sons. Uncle Will was about two years old in the picture, still held in his mother's arms, and Papa was about fifteen, standing a little apart from Grandfather. It made Violet sad to think that even then, there was tension between father and son, but Grandfather had only smiled gently when she'd mentioned that. "That's true," he'd agreed, "but how many pictures of my two sons do I have?" The portrait had gone up on the wall, and the painted moose was now in the attic.

"And Uncle Will," Henry agreed. He looked up at the picture, too. "You know, Soo Lee and Sung Kyu won't have any uncles, because Joe and Alice are both only children. We'll have to be their uncles."

"We can't be their uncles," Benny pointed out. "You said we were their cousins."

"We _are_ their cousins," Jessie said. "Henry just meant that we can spend time with them the way an uncle or an aunt would. But that really means you and Violet, because we'll both be going back to college for the spring semester in a couple weeks."

"I can do that," Benny said. "Maybe Violet will drive me over to their house when she gets her driver's license." He looked over at Violet hopefully.

Violet laughed. "Of course, Benny."

* * *

On Monday Henry drove the five of them over to Joe and Alice's house. Already they could see the evidence of children in a house that only a week ago had belonged to two adults; a high chair was set up in the kitchen, and a trail of tiny socks and gloves and hats marked the way to the stairs. Jessie immediately went to the kitchen to put the lasagna and muffins in the freezer, while Henry hung everyone's coats in the closet. Grandfather carried a tray of sandwiches into the kitchen with Benny and a plate of brownies close on his heels.

"How was the trip?" Henry asked, ladling soup into bowls for everyone.

"Stressful," Joe replied honestly, passing the tray of sandwiches. "Getting stuck in San Francisco with two new kids wasn't the way I'd planned on spending my vacation. But it was worth it."

"It certainly was," Violet said, looking over at the children. Sung Kyu was sitting in his high chair, making patterns on the tray with his rice cereal. Every so often he would let out a happy squawk. In contrast, Soo Lee sat quietly between Alice and Benny, listening to the family with wide eyes. Alice had said that Soo Lee had learned English from a woman at the orphanage in Seoul, but the little girl hadn't said much yet.

"Do you like chicken noodle soup?" Jessie asked, passing a bowl across the table to Soo Lee. She picked up her spoon and took a tentative sip, then broke into a smile. All around the table, her new family smiled back at her.

"How about Monopoly?" Benny asked. "Do you play Monopoly?"

"No, but thank you."

"I don't think Soo Lee knows what Monopoly is," Joe said.

"Is it food?" Soo Lee asked.

"Monopoly is a game," Benny said with an encouraging smile. "I'll teach you."

Soo Lee smiled and her dark eyes shone. "Good. I like that."

"I brought you something," Benny went on. "It's not Monopoly though."

"Benny," Jessie said, "I think it would be nice to wait until we're done eating lunch to give Soo Lee our presents."

Soo Lee looked hopeful. Joe laughed. "You only get one homecoming. Go ahead, Benny."

Benny went back into the front hall to get the package. It was so big that Soo Lee had to climb down from her chair at the table and sit on the floor to open it. When she ripped the paper from the big box containing the fire truck, she grinned. "I like this," she said.

"I'm glad," Benny said. "It's just like the one Grandfather gave me when we came to live with him." He smiled across the table at his grandfather. "Remember?"

Grandfather smiled back. "I do indeed," he said. "Because that one was just like the one that your father had when he was about your age."

Just then Sung Kyu let out a shriek and threw a handful of rice cereal. He was so small that it didn't do much besides stick to his hands and dribble back onto his tray, but Alice stood up anyway. "I think someone's ready for a nap," she said.

"I'll help you," Violet offered, going to the sink to get a wet paper towel for the screaming Sung Kyu's hands.

"I help too," Soo Lee said, sliding out of her chair.

"We'll be right back," Alice said, leading the girls up the stairs to the room that had been painted green for the baby. Violet helped Alice change the baby's diaper and place him in his crib, but his wails didn't stop. Alice rocked him. Violet rocked him. Soo Lee sat on the floor and held him in her arms. The baby's cries were heartbreaking, and Violet wasn't sure what to do.

Joe stuck his head in the doorway. "Do you need help?"

"No," said Alice, whose face was starting to go a little red. She brushed a wisp of dark hair away from her eyes. "I mean, yes, but not the kind of help you can give."

"Should we let him cry it out?" Joe asked. "I read in one of the books that at this age—"

"I don't think so," Alice said. "Maybe at this age for most babies, but not this one. He needs to learn to feel secure and relaxed with us."

"Yeah, but if he's getting overstimulated …" Joe said, taking Sung Kyu from his wife. "Maybe we should just leave him alone for a few minutes and—"

"No," Soo Lee cut in loudly.

Joe, Alice, and Violet all looked down at her. " 'No' what, sweetheart?" Joe asked.

" _No_ ," Soo Lee said again. She held up her arms for the screaming baby, and after a moment, Joe sat down next to her and placed him back in her arms. "I take care."

Violet gave Joe and Alice a questioning look, and Alice pulled her aside. "She's been like this ever since we met them for the first time," she explained in a low voice. "The social workers at the orphanage said it's normal. She's been taking care of him ever since he was born. They said it will take some time for her to relax, too, to feel like we're his parents instead of her."

Violet stared at the little girl sitting on the floor, cradling the baby expertly, watching him with calm adoration and looking totally oblivious to his screams. _I know you_ , she thought. _Oh, I know you, my little cousin._

"Alice, why don't you go back down to lunch?" Violet suggested. "And Soo Lee, will you stay here with your brother and your, um, your father for a minute? I'm going to go get something."

She ran down the stairs to the unopened pile of gifts in the front hall and picked up her violin case. When she walked back into the room with it, Joe's tired eyes lit up and Soo Lee looked curiously at her, although she clutched her little brother tighter to her chest.

"This is Brahms," Violet said, lifting her violin to her chin and beginning the familiar lullaby. Joe smiled as she played. It was an easy piece, one of the first he had taught her, but one that also did the trick as Violet played the song four times in a row and Sung Kyu began to quiet on the third.

"That's amazing," Joe said softly as Violet slid into a quiet rendition of "All the Pretty Horses." "How did you do that?"

"It's a mystery," Violet said, smiling down at her little cousins. Soo Lee was still stroking Sung Kyu's head, but gently, because his eyes were fluttering closed with every note.

Joe stood up and took the baby from Soo Lee, and this time the little girl didn't protest. Instead, she stood up as well and studied Violet with wide eyes. "What is that?" she asked.

"The song? It's called 'All the Pretty Horses.' My grandfather, who is going to be your great-great-uncle, used to keep race horses …"

"No." Soo Lee shook her head. "It's a … violin?" she said tentatively, trying out the English pronunciation.

"Oh," Violet said, feeling foolish. Of course Soo Lee wasn't interested in an entire genealogy lesson on her second day in her new home. "Yes, it's a violin. I started playing when I was a little older than you. Joe—your father—taught me to play."

Soo Lee's eyes grew bigger, and her mouth opened as if she had a question that she couldn't put into words. "You will teach me?" she burst out finally, as Joe turned out the light.

Violet carefully put her violin away in its case and latched it, then took Soo Lee's hand as they walked back down to lunch. "Yes," she said. "I would love to."

* * *

It was very hot for late May. Violet wiped the sweat from her brow as she climbed the last of the steps and reached for her apartment door. Boston in the spring was usually rather delicate and vibrant, an exciting breath of green after the long winter. Not this year; April and May had been downright hot. Violet couldn't wait to get to the Berkshires.

Her telephone was ringing when she stumbled into the living room; she set her violin case on the floor carefully and ran for it. "Hello?" she said, pattering into the kitchen for a glass of water. Her apartment was small, so she didn't need to patter far.

"Vi, it's me," Henry said. Violet put the glass on the kitchen table and sat down, concerned at the shortness of Henry's tone. "You need to come home. It's Grandfather."

"What?" Violet gasped. "Is he all right?"

"He's fine, for now," Henry said quickly, which didn't do much to reassure Violet. "He's been sick all winter, but Ben and I finally got him to see the doctor this week, and he has cancer."

"Cancer!" Violet gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. "What kind? Is it bad?" All cancer sounded bad to Violet, but she really didn't know. None of their relatives, that she knew of, had died of cancer. Most of them had gone suddenly, often quite young and in accidents. The Aldens had lost so many people already, but now, hearing about her grandfather, Violet felt as if it were the first time.

"Non-Hodgkin lymphoma," Henry said. "I don't know how much you know about it, Violet, but it is pretty serious, at least at his age. He could … go, soon, so you need to come home now."

"I—we're heading out to Tanglewood soon," Violet said helplessly. "I can't just leave. I'd need to talk to Maestro—"

"Well, do it," Henry said impatiently. "Call him tonight. Can you come tomorrow?"

Violet thought of her brother, working at the Alden Manufacturing Company and living with his wife and children in the family home. She thought of Ben, also married; he'd bought the Beach house next door and his two young children still played in the treehouse they had all built so many years ago. Joe and Alice, of course, still lived in Greenfield. But she could tell that even with much of their family close by, Henry needed his sisters there. They needed to be there. "Yes," she said. "Of course I can come tomorrow. I'll meet with Maestro in the morning, and then I'll drive home in the afternoon. Have you called Jessie?"

"Just a minute ago," Henry said. "She's coming, but she can't leave New York until the weekend."

"Does she need a ride?" Violet asked. Jessie had surprised them all when she moved to New York City to work in banking eight years ago, and as a result it was harder to see her. She and Violet often took buses and trains between New York and Boston because Jessie didn't have a car. She claimed that lots of people in New York didn't have cars, but that didn't make it any easier for her to get home to Greenfield for Christmas and Grandfather's birthday every year.

"Probably," Henry said, "but I don't want you to wait for her. If she has to, she can take a bus to Boston or something on Saturday and one of us can go pick her up."

"Okay," Violet said. "I'll see you soon. I love you. Tell Grandfather I love him."

"I will," Henry said, "I love you too," and hung up. Violet drank her glass of water, called her music director and arranged a meeting for the morning, and managed to pack most of a suitcase before sitting down on the floor to cry. Her elderly cat, Sugar Cookie, crawled into her lap, and her tears turned his white fur to cream.

* * *

The next morning, Violet rushed downtown to meet with her music director. He was more understanding than she had hoped, but as firm as she had expected. "You may take a day or two, Miss Alden," he'd said. "But if you're not back by the time we leave for Lenox, well, I'm sure Miss Carmody would be happy to move back up to concertmaster."

Violet thought of Melody Carmody, who was friendly and polite, but as dedicated and ambitious as Violet. She had no doubt that Melody would be happy to reclaim her place, which she'd lost three years ago when Violet became the youngest concertmaster in many years. She swallowed hard, looking down at her shoes. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't apologize," Maestro said. "I have one associate concertmaster, two assistant concertmasters, and ten other first violins, all of whom would love to have your job. You're not really inconveniencing _me_ , Miss Alden. This is your career. Your decision."

Violet started, remembering something that her violin teacher had told her many years ago, and lifted her head to look her director straight in the eye. "I understand," she said. "Thank you." She turned and headed for the door, glancing once around the symphony hall. It looked plain and dull in the absence of its usual warm concert lighting, but it was still beautiful. She thought about how much she loved her job and her music. And then she took a deep breath and walked outside, feeling very tall.

* * *

The drive to Greenfield took about three hours—three long hours of Violet's worries rattling around in her head, accompanied by Sugar Cookie's yowls from the backseat of the car. He'd never liked traveling in the car, but she couldn't leave him in Boston when she didn't know how long she'd be in Greenfield. By the time they got to the Alden house, Sugar Cookie was happy to dart inside and hide from Henry's dog, and Violet was happy to hug her brother and sister-in-law and not have to listen to the cat's raspy meows anymore.

"How is he?" Violet asked without preamble. "Where is he?"

"He's up in his room," Henry said, rubbing one unshaven cheek with the back of his hand. "He's okay for now. I mean, as okay as can be expected. But it's not …" He hesitated as Violet picked up her violin and her purse and headed for the steps, pausing to glance back at her brother. "It's not good, Vi."

Violet nodded and headed for the upstairs floor of her childhood home. It was still much the same as it had been when they were growing up, but there were changes as well. Jessie and Benny's old rooms now belonged to Kate and James, and there were pictures of them on all the walls. Only Violet's bedroom was unchanged, with the violet wallpaper now a weak lavender in the sunshine.

Violet knocked on her grandfather's door, then eased it open. Her grandfather was lying in bed, covered with a heavy quilt even though it was also warm in Greenfield. "Grandfather?" she said. "I'm here."

Her grandfather lifted his head from the pillow and smiled at her. "Violet, my dear," he said. "Come in. How good to see you."

Violet closed the door behind her and sat on the edge of his bed. "It's good to see you too," she said, trying not to let her gaze linger too long on her grandfather's thin face or the papery look of his skin. "Can I get you anything? Something to eat or drink?"

"No, no," Grandfather said. "Don't worry about any of that. Henry and Sandy have been very good to me." He smiled. "What I'd like most would be if you'd play your violin for me."

"Oh," Violet said, surprised. She was still carrying it, of course, but she hadn't thought that that would be the first thing her grandfather would ask her to do. "I mean, of course, if you're sure …"

"Nothing fancy," Grandfather said with a small wave of his hand. "Just play. Something that you were going to play this summer, perhaps."

Violet thought about that as she opened her violin case and put rosin on her bow. This summer, they were planning to showcase some Schumann and Mahler, but that didn't seem quite right for Grandfather. Instead she lifted her violin and played "Redbird," a very old tune that Violet had first learned when the Aldens had visited Drummond Castle years ago.

When she was finished, Grandfather smiled and motioned for her to sit down again. "Thank you, Violet. That was lovely. You're as good as my brother was—better," he said. "And Soo Lee takes after you and John both. She's doing very well in Atlanta."

"I got a letter from her last week," Violet said. "It sounds like she likes it a lot." She leaned closer to her grandfather and took his hand. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you, Grandfather?"

"No," her grandfather said again. "This is fine. Henry tells me that Jessie is coming home this weekend. I just want all my grandchildren close."

"We can do that," Violet said. She swallowed, and when she spoke again, her voice was very low. "We won't go away from you."

"I hope not, my dear," said Grandfather. "We've all lived so—so happily here in this home."

And they had.

**End.**  
  
  



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